Sixteen Going on Seventeen
by Dancing a Black Waltz
Summary: Agent Peter Burke has been chasing teenage conman Neal Caffrey and finally catches up to him. Peter has been waiting for this moment for years. However, things don't turn out as expected and Neal gains a family...eventually. Teenage Neal and Neal whump.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**White Collar**_**.**

* * *

"FBI! Freeze!" Agent Peter Burke sprinted down the alley, gun drawn. He was in hot pursuit of teenage conman Neal Caffrey. The teen had managed to escape a museum with a $50,000 painting, but with several agents in pursuit.

Peter raced around the corner only to come face to face with the sixteen year old. Neal turned around with a desperate look in his eyes.

"Hands up" Peter ordered. The conman slowly raised his hands only to dart forward a moment later.

Fortunately the FBI agent had quick reflexes and managed to wrap an arm around Neal's waist. However, he wasn't quick enough to avoid Neal as he thrashed against the agent, his head slamming back into Peter's chin. Momentarily dazed, Peter's grip on Neal loosened and the teen was able to twist free.

Peter lunged forward and tackled the teen, Neal pinned underneath him. Neal still refused to be subdued and bucked against Peter's weight. Peter managed to pin Neal's wrists and ankles to the asphalt, Neal tossing his head restlessly and still struggling.

"Boss, you need any help?" Diana Barrigan and Clinton Jones came running up.

"I'm good" Peter panted as he roughly jerked Neal to his feet, securing the conman's hands behind his back with a zip tie and handcuffs. He was not going to take any chances on Neal Caffrey escaping his custody.

* * *

Neal Caffrey sat, chained hand and foot in one of the interrogation rooms at FBI headquarters. Peter stood behind a one-way window, observing the teen. No teenager should be able to sit that still for so long, he thought. And Neal had been sitting there for at least three hours, not moving a muscle.

"We have a slight problem" Reese Hughes walked into the room and Peter turned away from the young conman.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Caffrey can't be processed until tomorrow at the earliest, and he can't stay here all night. The federal marshals gave us this for temporary use." Hughes passed a small package to Peter. The agent opened it and pulled out a tracking anklet.

"State of the art. It can't be picked, which in Caffrey's case is extremely difficult to achieve."

Neal glanced up as Peter entered the room, the anklet in his hands.

He watched, with slight apprehension, as Peter lifted up Neal's pant cuff and fastened the anklet around Neal's leg. Peter then stood up and unlocked the chains around Neal's wrists and legs and walked him out of the interrogation room. He kept a firm hand on Neal's back, not at all doubting that Neal would run at the first chance he got.

"Where are we going?" Neal asked, doing his best to disguise the tremor in his voice.

"Home."

_~TBC_

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**Me: Okay, so this is just a prologue, but please tell me if I should continue or not! (My other story will be updated tomorrow, 3/5/2014) **


	2. Devilled Ham and Home

"_Home."_

* * *

Neal sat silently in the car, his mind reeling. The FBI agent had put the tracking anklet on his ankle and already Neal's fingers were itching to take it off. He had also said something, something about home. Neal leaned his head against the window, staring out as the city flashed by. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

Peter glanced over at the young teen. He watched Neal's lashes flutter farther and farther down until Neal was fast asleep. The agent leaned over and quietly switched off the radio, lest it wake Neal.

They were less than twenty minutes away from the Burkes' house and Peter glanced over worriedly at Neal. The teenager had been making quiet noises and shifting restlessly every so often. Peter suspected it was from nightmares, but he wasn't exactly sure he could deal with it. He drove in silence until Neal finally jerked against the seatbelt with a desperate gasp.

"Neal!" Peter slammed on the brakes. Neal fumbled with the door and stumbled out of the car, Peter quickly following.

He stopped to see Neal doubled over, retching, one hand wrapped around his stomach.

Peter bent over, awkwardly placing his hand on Neal's back, feeling for the first time, the skinniness of the teen's frame.

"Hey-uh, it's gonna be okay." Peter said in what he hoped was a comforting tone.

Nothing was left for Neal to vomit and he continued to dry heave, Peter's hand remaining on his back. Peter tried not to wince every time Neal's body shook with a heave and he wondered when the last time Neal had eaten.

"Th…th…thanks" Neal stuttered, wiping a hand across his mouth.

"Have you…uh had anything to eat?" Peter asked.

Neal shook his head and climbed back into the car.

"I've got a devilled ham sandwich," Peter offered, passing Neal a slightly squished, sat-on sandwich. Neal took it between the tips of his fingers, letting his nose wrinkle in disgust as it dangled in his grasp.

"That's gross" Neal spoke flatly.

"One bite. My wife'll probably give you something to eat when we get home."

Neal placed the offending sandwich as far away from him as possible.

"One bite" Peter said, keeping one hand on the wheel and using the other to push the sandwich back in the conman's lap.

Neal took a deep breath and took a tentative bite.

"That does not count as a bite. You haven't had anything to eat in at least twenty-four hours and I'm not having you pass out. Eat!" Peter snapped.

"Fine." Neal's tone was equally as biting. He picked up the sandwich and took an exaggeratedly oversized bite. Peter chuckled at the expression on the teen's face as he struggled to swallow.

"How do you eat this?" Neal asked.

"I like it" Peter said defensively. Neal simply raised his eyebrows and settled back in the seat, doing his best to keep the sandwich down.

"Here we are" Peter announced as he pulled up in front of the house. Neal resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Peter's obviousness.

"Hi hon, where were you, I've-" a smiling, brown-haired woman opened the door and hugged Peter tightly.

"Hey El, this is Neal" Peter stepped back to introduce the teen who looked more like he'd rather run away than meet El.

"Neal, this is El."

"Hi Neal, nice to-" El's greeting was cut off as Neal abruptly vomited into the bushes.

"Peter, what did you do to him?!" El asked as she gently rubbed Neal's back.

"I gave him a sandwich."

El ushered Neal into the house, leaving Peter to close the door. She walked Neal over to the couch, where the teenager sat down, moaning a little.

"Make him comfortable" El whispered at Peter as she ran upstairs to find medicine.

Peter sat on the couch next to Neal who had curled up into a little ball, burying himself into the couch cushions. Peter started to rub gentle circles on Neal's back, feeling the conman relax. El came back down, a small bottle of medicine in her hand and a spoon in the other.

"Neal, sweetie, I need you to sit up" El coaxed as she spooned a dose of medicine into Neal's mouth.

"Tastes better than devilled ham" Neal murmured as he lay back down. Peter took the blanket El handed him and draped it carefully over the conman's form. He waited until Neal had fallen fully asleep and then followed El to the kitchen.

"What is he doing here?" El demanded in a loud whisper.

"Hughes had nowhere to put him and I drew the short straw, so Neal's staying with us until tomorrow morning. He'll get processed tomorrow." Peter was surprised to see El's eyes well with tears.

"What's wrong, hon?" he murmured.

"Peter…he's so young. He shouldn't…" Peter quickly hugged El tightly to him. He didn't know anyone else with as big a heart as his wife, but he knew she was wrong about Neal Caffrey.

"I know El, but there's nothing I can do" Peter lied. There were strings he could pull, things he could say, and deals he could make to keep the talented teenager out of prison. He just didn't exactly believe Neal deserved a second chance.

~TBC

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_Thanks for reading, as always reviews are welcomed! Just please be kind about it!_


	3. Second Chances

_He just didn't exactly believe Neal deserved a second chance._

* * *

Neal sat on the edge of the bed. He didn't remember too much from last night, only El and Peter acting like his parents. Peter carrying him up the stairs and El tucking him in. He dreaded going downstairs. From eavesdropping on Peter's conversation last night, Neal had gathered that the federal marshals would be coming in the morning and taking him to prison. Now Neal was trying his hardest to delay the inevitable by not going downstairs.

"Neal! Breakfast's ready!" El called from the bottom of the stairs.

Neal sighed and slowly got to his feet, walking down the stairs, dragging his feet every step.

"What's this, hon?" Peter asked as he walked into the kitchen, fixing his tie.

"Breakfast" El walked over to Peter and planted a kiss on his cheek. She took over tying his tie, her capable fingers fixing the tie into a neat knot.

"For who?"

"Neal." El replied as she walked over to the stove and started filling up a plate.

"And you" El smiled brightly as she placed the plate in front of her slightly appeased husband. Neal poked his head around the edge of the doorframe.

"Morning, Neal" El greeted him. Neal nodded and replied so softly that the Burkes' had to strain to hear him.

"So…Neal. The marshals are coming in about two hours" Peter remarked, ignoring El's pointed glare.

"Neal, I've heard you're an amazing artist" El cut in smoothly.

"Yes, you know-"

"Where is it?" Peter interrupted Neal.

"What?" Neal asked.

"The painting. The one you had when you were running."

"I don't know what you're talking about" Neal said, trying not to think about the 4x4 canvas rolled up in a hidden pocket in his pant leg. He had hidden it the moment Peter had cornered him and fortunately Peter had not searched Neal too thoroughly.

"Hon, can't this wait?" El placed a gentle hand on her husband's arm.

"No, it can't. The marshals won't be as nice as I am."

Neal looked down at his plate and swallowed. His appetite had suddenly dissipated. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. Briefly he heard El telling Peter to leave him alone.

Neal slipped out the front door, took a deep breath, and did one of the many things he did best.

He ran.

* * *

Peter frowned as he paced the living room. El had left for work, someone had scheduled a party and El's services were apparently required. Peter was waiting for Neal to get back, but he had a gut feeling that told him Neal wouldn't be back anytime soon. He glanced at his watch and realized it hadn't even been three minutes since he had last checked his watch.

He sat down at the table and opened his laptop. He aimlessly browsed through case files, Neal's files, and briefly glanced at the weather. Idly he hoped El's event would go well, even though there were supposed to be thunderstorms later in the afternoon and early evening. The FBI agent was startled out of his musings by the vibration of his phone.

"Agent Burke."

"Hughes?" Peter tensed; he suspected he knew why his boss was calling him.

"Where's Caffrey?"

"He went for a run."

"An almost five mile run?" Hughes voice was tinged with tones of skepticism.

"I'll go find him." Peter said, mentally groaning as there was a loud crash of thunder and the rain started.

* * *

Peter had spent almost two hours cruising the neighborhood and area where Neal's tracker had last been. He didn't think Neal had taken off the anklet, but judging from the first two times Neal had escaped him, the FBI agent knew not to underestimate the teenager.

He pulled into a parking spot next to a park. Sitting still for a moment, Peter thought how nice the park was and how much El would love it. He got out of the car and walked through the entrance to the park, noticing how heavy the rain was and hoping that Neal wasn't out in this storm.

However, his hopes were dashed when he saw a small figure huddled on a park bench.

"Neal!" Peter yelled, jogging over. The teenager didn't even stir as Peter shook his shoulder.

"Neal, c'mon buddy, wake up" Peter was finally rewarded as Neal's eyes opened and he saw slits of blue peeking out. He glanced down, noticing that Neal's slim fingers were firmly locked around a fold in Peter's coat.

"C'mon" Peter eased Neal into a sitting position and helped him to stand up.

"P'ter" was the only warning that the agent got as Neal's legs buckled under him and he collapsed.

"Easy kid, I got you" Peter caught Neal and slid his arms under the skinny conman, carrying him to the car. He noticed Neal's lips were moving and he bent his head, trying to catch what the conman was saying.

"I…d-d-didn't think you'd come" Neal murmured, his voice stuttering as he started to shiver violently. The pain in Neal's eyes just before he closed them broke Peter's heart.

Neal's head rested against Peter's chest and suddenly the agent felt a surge of protection for the young conman. He realized that El was right, and maybe Neal _did_ deserve a second chance.

_~TBC_

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Hope_ you all enjoyed this! Please tell me what you thought and have a nice day!_


	4. Pneumonia

_He realized that El was right, and maybe Neal __**did**__ deserve a second chance._

* * *

Peter didn't hesitate to drive straight to the hospital. After getting a barely conscious Neal settled in the front seat, Peter noticed how violently Neal was shivering. The conman's face was white and his lips had a bluish tinge. His slim fingers were still curled in the same position as they had been when he had grasped Peter's shirt.

"El" Peter promptly broke El's rule of never calling during an event.

"Peter, this better be important." He could hear how harried she sounded and immediately felt bad for disturbing her.

"It is. Neal's sick and I'm taking him to the hospit-"

"I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes." El didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence.

The FBI agent had gotten to the hospital in record time. He'd had to carry Neal bridal-style into the hospital, the conman fighting to stay conscious. Several doctors and nurses had swarmed around Neal's prone form and in a matter of seconds the conman had been whisked away and Peter efficiently steered away.

He was sitting in the waiting room, filling out the forms one of the nurses had handed him when El came running in.

"Hon" El's voice was muffled in Peter's shoulder as she hugged her husband.

"What happened?" she asked as they sat down.

"He ran and I found him and he was sick, so I took him here." Peter looked so bewildered and lost that El hugged him again.

"He's gonna be okay" Peter mumbled. He felt El nod against his shoulder, her arms tightening around him.

"Family of Mr. Caffrey?" a doctor stepped in to the room, carrying a clipboard.

Peter and El stood up, Peter shakily introducing himself as Neal's father. He felt El squeeze his hand as he said that.

"Mr. Caffrey is doing as well as could be expected after being out in a storm. However, he has pneumonia and we'd like to keep him here for a few days," the doctor's tone was accusing, as though the Burkes could have kept Neal from running out in the rain. Peter started to mutter and growl, but El squeezed his hand.

"Can we please see him?" El asked.

"Follow me."

The doctor ushered Peter and El into the room. Both froze as they saw Neal. The young conman's face was as white as the sheets and as the Burkes hurried forward, he raised his head a few inches off the pillow and let out a harsh cough that shook his thin frame.

"Neal, sweetie!" El immediately started mother-henning Neal, smoothing his hair back and talking quietly to him. Neal smiled a little bit at this, but El could still see how much it hurt. Peter was a little more hesitant, settling instead for a seat on the edge of Neal's bed and a gentle hand wrapped around Neal's wrist.

"Hey" Neal rasped and winced as his throat protested.

"Shhh…Neal don't try to talk." El soothed him. Neal shook his head desperately and insisted on trying to sit up, El and Peter both moving to support him.

"'m sorry" Neal mumbled, his head drooping against Peter's shoulder.

"For what?" Peter asked, keeping an arm around Neal's waist.

"Running…I didn't mean to. I just got scared and-" Neal was cut off as Peter awkwardly wrapped his arms around the kid and pulled him close.

"It's okay, Neal" Peter said, running one surprisingly tender hand up and down Neal's back. Peter felt Neal shudder and start to sob. Bits of incoherent words and "sorries" tumbled from Neal's lips as he trembled and cried against Peter's chest. The FBI agent kept up a soothing litany as he held Neal.

Finally Neal quieted, his exhausted sobs tapering off to hiccups. Peter glanced down as Neal's eyelids fluttered shut and his breathing evened out. He lay Neal back against the bed, El tucking the blankets back over him. Peter gently brushed his thumb over Neal's cheeks, wiping away any excess tears.

"Peter, don't you think one of us should stay with him?" El asked softly.

"Yeah, I'll stay" Peter volunteered, running a hand over his tired face.

"Hon, go down to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee. I'll stay with him," El gently insisted.

Peter nodded and slowly made his way to the door and paused to look back at El, settled in the chair beside Neal's bed. For the first time in years, he thought about how amazing a mother El would be.

El smiled sadly as she watched Neal sleep. She moved a few strands of brown hair out of his eyes. His face was so innocent and El wondered how a teenager as young as Neal had gotten caught up in crime.

~TBC (not for another week)

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_I'm sorry for this being so short, but I wanted to get it up because I'm going to be unable to do any more chapters for at least a week! If you have any ideas you'd like incorporated into the next few chapters, please let me know!_


	5. Grape Flavored Medicine

_El smiled sadly as she watched over Neal as he slept. His face was so innocent and El wondered how a teenager as young as Neal had gotten caught up in crime._

* * *

Neal stayed at the hospital for two more days, much to his regret. By the end of the two days, both Neal and Peter were equally grouchy. Neal for having to stay in the hospital, and Peter for having to stay with Neal in the hospital. El had tried to placate both members of her family by smuggling food into the hospital. However this had only furthered their bad tempers. Peter insisted that Neal was influencing his wife and Neal was irritated because he thought that Peter had insulted him. After the two days were up, both Neal and Peter were more than happy to leave.

"Now sweetie, the doctor said that you should stay in bed for a few more days. He also said that you should take this" El poured out a spoonful of purple colored liquid. Neal glared at the spoon from his position on the Burkes' couch.

"I'm not taking that," he declared.

"Sweetie…"

"El please, it'll just make me more sick" Neal flashed blue puppy eyes at her. He could see that he almost had her convinced when Peter materialized behind her.

"You're not trying to con my wife, are you Caffrey?" the agent asked suspiciously.

"Not at all. I'm just trying to stop her from feeding me poison" Neal gave Peter one of his charming Caffrey smiles.

Peter only shook his head and took the spoon from El.

"Open" Neal stubbornly shook his head.

"I'll send you to prison" Peter threatened. Neal shook his head.

"You won't send me to prison just because I didn't take my medicine-" Peter managed to shove the medicine into Neal's mouth as the conman spoke. Neal gagged at the disgusting taste and tried to spit out the foul liquid. Peter firmly clamped his hand over Neal's mouth and the conman weakly thrashed against him, finally swallowing.

"Ugh!" he immediately started coughing and El sympathetically rubbed his back.

"Peter! I can't believe you did that" El glared at her husband. Neal sounded like he was hacking up a lung and Peter started to feel the tiniest bit sorry for force-feeding Neal the medicine.

"Wha' flavor was that?" Neal spat.

"Grape…"

"That was not grape! That was…just not grape!" Neal yelped.

"Maybe we can see about getting another flavor" El supplied, "why don't you try to get some sleep?"

Neal nodded and scooted down on the couch, El cushioning his head with a pillow and draping a blanket over him. She wrapped her arm around Peter's waist and watched as Neal drifted into sleep. El led Peter into the kitchen and started to make dinner.

"Hon, go to CVS and get a new flavor."

"What? Are you kidding me?" Peter exclaimed.

"Not so loud, hon. It's simple, go get Neal a different flavor of medicine."

"No."

"Do you really want to have to fight Neal every single time we try to give him a dose? And besides that grape flavor is totally disgusting!"

"Fine. The grape flavor is disgusting so I'll give him that. But Neal needs to deal with some hardships. And I still don't believe that he's telling the truth" Peter folded his arms.

"Are you serious? Neal just needs a home, not hardships. Now go get him a new flavor" El folded her arms and stared at Peter.

"Fine." Peter stalked out, grabbing his coat and car keys.

* * *

Peter got back less than an hour later and found El in the kitchen over a sizzling pan. She smiled and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Go check on Neal" she said as Peter dropped the medicine on the counter.

"Neal, dinner's ready" Peter was about to shake Neal's shoulder, when he noticed Neal was crying as he slept.

"Neal" Peter raised his voice, unwilling to touch Neal in case the conman panicked.

Neal sat up with a gasp, his shaking fingers clutching at Peter.

"Neal!"

"Get away from me…I'm not going…" Neal whimpered, scrambling back from him.

"Going where?" Peter asked and then he realized. Neal thought Peter was taking him to prison.

"Neal. Snap out of it!" Peter managed to grab hold of Neal's wrist. The conman thrashed, his eyes still closed.

Peter held Neal tightly against his chest and the kid struggled, never actually hitting Peter, but still fighting to get away. Peter tried to soothe Neal, the conman finally collapsing in an exhausted heap against Peter.

"P-P-Peter" Neal's blue eyes flickered open. They widened as he realized that Peter was holding him close.

"Neal, it's okay. You were just having a bad dream. It's okay" Peter murmured.

"Sorry" Neal whispered.

"It's okay" Peter gently thumbed the tears from Neal's cheeks and draped the blanket around his shoulders. He settled down and stretched out on the floor, pulling Neal to lean against him. Satchmo padded over and nosed Neal, then Peter. He let out a doggy sigh and settled down on Peter's other side.

When she had finished, El went to go get Peter. A smile broke out on her face as she watched all three of her boys sleep.

* * *

_~TBC_

_Okay so here's the update! As always, thanks for reading!_


	6. Promises

_When she had finished, El went to go get Peter. A smile broke out on her face as she watched all three of her boys sleep._

* * *

Peter woke up, his back aching in several places, Neal fast asleep in his lap. He smiled and rubbed his hand against Neal's back, the teenager snuggling down and wrapping his hand tighter in the blanket.

"Morning, hon" Peter tilted his head back and saw El, smiling sleepily down at her husband and son.

"It's morning."

"Really?" Peter rubbed his eyes and looked down at his watch.

"Uh huh" El nodded, "go back to sleep. It's Saturday."

Peter took one last glance at the sleeping conman on his lap and closed his eyes.

* * *

Neal woke up, blinking against the bright sunlight streaming into his eyes. He was lying in Peter's lap, the blanket tangled around him. He sat up slowly, careful not to wake Peter. In sleep, the FBI agent looked much more relaxed and Neal ruefully realized that he was probably the reason Peter looked so stressed so often.

"Peter- oh, morning Neal" El came in carrying two mugs of coffee.

"Is one for me?" Neal flashed a sweet smile at Peter's wife.

"Peter's not going to like it" El warned, smiling as she handed over a mug.

Neal climbed over Peter and sat on the couch next to El. They sipped their coffee in silence for a few minutes until El spoke.

"You know you owe Peter a lot."

Neal nodded, looking down at his coffee.

"Neal, if you have that painting you stole, you should give it to Peter. You owe him that much." El looked at him, her eyes bright.

"I know, but I-I-I can't."

"Why not?" El's voice was gentle and she placed her hand on Neal's knee.

"It's a long story."

"Well, until Peter wakes up, we have all day."

"I don't have the painting. It was supposed to be for someone. It will lead to another, larger treasure."

"What do you have then?"

"An original sketch of _The Concert_ by Johannes Vermeer. The original painting was stolen in 1990. There was supposedly a clue in the sketch that would lead to the original painting. I was hired to steal the painting, but Peter caught me before I could go anywhere. He still only thinks that I stole the painting, but all I have is the sketch. Not the full painting." Neal finished his story.

He knew that no matter what he told Peter and El, the federal agent wouldn't find the painting. He hadn't been lying when he said that all he had was the sketch and that he hadn't stolen the painting. Mozzie had hidden it too well for anyone to find. If Mozzie wanted it to be found, it would be.

"Neal. Listen to me. You need to tell Peter that you have the sketch and not the painting." El spoke urgently.

"I can't. El, you don't know these people."

"But I _know_ my husband. Peter will do anything to protect you. He truly cares about you."

"El…" Peter groaned as he woke up. Both El and Neal gave him identically guilty looks.

"What'd I miss?" he asked.

"A lot." El answered for both herself and Neal.

"Neal…tell Peter what you told me" El prodded Neal. Peter's face grew suspicious as Neal looked down.

"Does it have anything to do with the painting you _allegedly _stole?"

Neal nodded, still refusing to speak. He looked up and flashed scared blue eyes at El. She gave him an encouraging look, but Neal seemed to shrink down several sizes and refused to even nod or shake his head at Peter. El pulled Peter into the kitchen; leaving Neal huddled on the couch.

"What's going on?" Peter hissed.

"He's terrified. Neal didn't steal the painting."

"And you believe him?" Peter raised his eyebrows at who he thought was normally his sensible wife.

"Yes. Neal has a sketch of the painting, but not the actual thing" El smiled at Peter.

"Why doesn't he just tell me?" Peter threw his hands up in the air. He started pacing the kitchen, exasperated with Neal.

"He's scared. He thinks that the people who wanted him to steal the painting are going to hurt him."

"Do you know how crazy you sound?" Peter asked. However, he knew that Neal had a very good reason to fear his employers.

"NO, I don't. Peter, you need to do something. I told him you would protect him."

"El, you know I can't promise anything…" Peter began. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, especially by the way El's hands were planted on her hips and the stubborn expression on her face.

"Can't you arrange some sort of deal with the FBI? Maybe Neal could work for you-"

"And what happens if he runs? What happens if he pulls a con? I can't do anything then. It was a good idea, hon, but I don't think it'll work" Peter wrapped his arms around El.

"Neal" El went to go get Neal. The young conman was still huddled in the same position on the couch. He looked up as Peter's wife approached.

"Please don't let Peter send me to prison," he begged.

"Oh sweetie, " El sat next to Neal, one of her arms around his slim shoulders.

"Peter won't be sending you anywhere. I promise," she whispered.

Both of them looked up as Peter walked into the room. An awkward silence filled the air as El and Neal sat on the couch and Peter stood in front of them.

"Neal, if you know anything about that painting, I need you to tell me." Peter crouched in front of Neal, trying to appear as understanding as possible.

Neal took a deep breath and carefully slid his hand down his leg, opening the pocket where the sketch was. He took it out and handed it to Peter, who studied it carefully. El leaned over his shoulder to examine it as well.

"This is real?" Peter's tone was slightly skeptical.

"It is" Neal looked Peter straight in the eyes.

"That the truth, kid?"

* * *

_~TBC_

_I am now going to try to update this story at least once a week! Reviews are always welcome and greatly appreciated._

_**Note:** The painting in this story by Vermeer is a real painting. It is called the Concert and was in fact stolen in March 1990._


	7. An Anklet or a Leash?

"_That the truth, kid?"_

* * *

Neal sat next to Peter in his car. They were going to the FBI headquarters so Neal could tell Peter's boss what he had already told Peter and El. Neal was nervous. He knew he hadn't lied about anything, but he hadn't exactly told the Burkes the whole story.

"You okay?" Peter asked softly.

"Yep. Eyes on the road" Neal responded automatically.

"Are you sure? You don't have to do this" Peter said.

"Yes, I do. I owe you that much" Neal spoke firmly.

"You know you don't owe me anything. And why would a criminal feel he owed the agent who chased him for years anything?" Peter asked, immediately regretting his question. He realized how harsh that sounded, but no matter what Neal was still a criminal. Apparently Neal also thought it was harsh because a slight flush spread over his cheeks and he sank down in the seat.

"I, I, I'm sorry…I shouldn't have said that" Peter muttered. He looked over at Neal. The young conman was staring out the window, looking like he was desperately trying to hold back some emotion.

"You okay, kid?" Peter asked quietly. When he received no answer, he resumed actually paying attention to the road. They drove in silence until they reached the FBI building.

"Is this, is this it?" Neal asked softly, gazing up at the building that made him seem so small.

"Yeah" Peter placed his hand gently on Neal's back and guided him through the doors. The teenager paled as they neared the office. By the time Peter opened the glass doors, he thought that Neal was about to be sick.

"Morning, boss" Diana greeted him with a smile. The smile froze as she saw who was with him. Neal's eyes widened as he saw the gun at her hip and her expression. He started to edge backward, as if to shelter behind Peter.

"And who's this?" Diana demanded.

"Neal Caffrey" Neal edged back around Peter as the agent pushed him forward a bit.

He dutifully shook Diana's hand and started to back away again. Peter repressed a sigh.

"Neal, why don't you go wait in my office." He pointed Neal towards his office and watched as the kid hurried off.

"What is he doing here?" Diana's tone was poisonous. Peter started to see why Neal had been hiding behind him.

"He's staying with me until we finish this case."

"He's at your _house_?" Diana's tone was incredulous.

"Long story," Peter sighed. He glanced up to his office to see Neal elegantly slouched in his chair, bouncing a baseball in his hand.

"Fine. But don't think I'm not keeping my eyes on him" Diana snapped.

"Trust me, I'll be glad of an extra set of eyes on Caffrey" Peter saw Hughes give him the double-finger point and tried not to groan.

"How's Caffrey?" Hughes asked, as Peter sat down.

"He's holding up."

"Hasn't tried escaping?" He hasn't run yet?" Hughes asked.

"No, he hasn't. And I don't think he will" Peter suddenly felt the need to defend Neal. It was true, if he forgot the part when Neal got scared and Peter lost him for a few, panicked hours.

"Good. The Marshals have asked us to keep an eye on him. Which means Neal will be staying with you for the time being." Hughes stood up, more or less dismissing Peter.

The agent closed Hughes' office door behind him and sank against it. He knew El would be happy that Neal would be staying with him, but he wasn't sure that Neal would like it. Peter glanced across the office and saw Neal flashing his charming smile at Jones and Diana, obviously telling some elaborate story.

"Neal" Peter didn't even raise his voice, but the young conman looked up with a slightly guilty expression. He grinned at Jones and Diana and hurried up to Peter.

"You're staying with me for a while longer."

"You don't look very happy about that" Neal leaned easily against the doorway, hands in his pocket.

"I am. But we need to get to the bottom of this case. Which means _you_ need to cooperate." Peter stared pointedly at Neal, who swallowed and looked like he suddenly wanted to leave.

"You need to tell Hughes about-" Peter was interrupted as Diana came through his door.

"Hughes asked me to give this to you. It's for him" she placed something on Peter's desk.

"Hey, I have a name you know" Neal called after her.

"Whatever, Caffrey."

Peter opened the box, pulling out something that looked like a rather thick bracelet with a blinking green light on it. He knew exactly what it was. And he knew that if the Marshals were willing to buy this expensive an anklet, then Neal was certainly going to be staying for a while. And secretly, Peter was glad of that.

"What is that?" Neal poked gingerly at the box.

"It's a new tracking anklet. Give me your ankle."

Neal willingly put his leg up on the chair and Peter fastened the anklet around Neal's slim ankle, making sure that it was tight enough that Neal couldn't pull it off, but not too tight that it was uncomfortable. The temporary anklet from the Marshals had already been taken off.

"Can it be picked?" the question slipped right out of Neal's mouth.

"NO. Do you honestly think that the Federal Marshals would give us something that you could easily pick?" Peter gave Neal a look that said that he thought Neal was crazy.

Neal sighed and slid his fingers over the new anklet, trying not to let it bother him. Trying not to let the fact that he was more or less leashed to the FBI bother him.

* * *

Neal tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Apparently he was required to keep the anklet 24 hours a day, seven days a week. There were no such things as vacations when wearing an anklet. He finally drifted off to sleep, one hand firmly tangled in the sheets.

Peter smiled, at last he could relax. He had his arm around El, a cold beer in one hand and a baseball game on the TV. Neal was sleeping in the guest room, which El had hastily made into Neal's room.

"Hon, I was thinking…"

"Don't think too hard," El teased.

"Why don't we-" Peter was interrupted as a scream shattered the peacefulness of the house. Peter dropped his beer and sprinted up the stairs, followed by El. He threw on the light switch in Neal's room, pausing at the threshold. Neal lay thrashing on the bed, most of the blankets in a tangled mess on the floor.

"He's having another nightmare." El's voice sounded heartbroken as she pushed past her husband to try to soothe the conman in the bed.

"Neal, sweetie, it's okay" she tried to wake Neal up, but he remained oblivious to her efforts and only whimpered, his head jerking on the pillow. Peter came up on the other side of Neal and quickly unclasped the anklet.

"I have to let the Marshals know I took the anklet off."

Peter came back upstairs to find Neal shivering on the bed; one hand wrapped around his ankle and his other hand around his knees.

"Neal…" he said softly.

"I'm sorry" Neal blurted out, his blue eyes teary.

"It's okay. There's nothing to be sorry for" Peter placed his hand on Neal's upper arm. El caught the look in his eyes and quietly slipped out of the room. She knew that Peter wanted a few moments alone with Neal.

"Go back to sleep."

"Promise you'll stay?" Neal looked up, his eyes shining desperately. Peter ran his hand through Neal's unruly curls.

"I promise."

When El peeked in on Neal and Peter an hour later, Peter was lying on the bed; Neal curled in his arms like a little puppy. And the anklet was securely wrapped around his ankle.

_**~TBC**_

* * *

_Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review, if you feel so inclined! They do make my day!_

_Note: So I realized that Neal sort of already has an anklet (in the prologue), however the anklet introduced in this chapter is a permanent one. The one before was temporary._


	8. Kate

_When El peeked in on Neal and Peter an hour later, Peter was lying on the bed; Neal curled in his arms like a little puppy. And the anklet was securely wrapped around his ankle._

* * *

"Get in" Peter held the car door open for Neal. The conman obeyed, a small smirk forming on his lips.

"Peter, you don't have to be so grouchy. It's not my fault that there was no coffee left for you."

"Actually, it is._ You_ drank all the coffee." Peter growled, starting the car and pulling out.

Neal laughed and folded his arms. Peter glanced at him in surprise, realizing that it was the first time he had actually heard Neal laugh. He smiled, coming to the rather startling conclusion that he liked Neal's laugh.

"There's that smile, Mr. Grinch" Neal teased.

Peter simply rolled his eyes, and continued to drive. Neal shifted, pressing buttons on the radio, and fiddling with his seatbelt. He stopped when Peter lightly smacked his hand. Neal settled back and managed to stay still for at least five minutes before he started adjusting himself again.

"Neal. Stop."

"Where are we going?" Neal asked.

"Private art gallery."

"Why?" Neal immediately perked up as soon as he heard the word "art".

"There's been a theft, another Vermeer's gone missing."

"Really?" Neal swallowed, suddenly wondering if this theft had anything to do with Mozzie's sudden disappearance.

"Yes. And don't get any ideas. While we are here, you are to treat the gallery like a museum. You do not touch _any_thing. Understand?"

"Peter…in most museums, I actually touch a lot of things."

"Not helping. Just don't touch anything and don't leave my eyesight" Peter growled.

"Of course I wouldn't leave the FBI's 'protective' gaze." Neal rolled his eyes.

Peter didn't respond, he only muttered something about "typical teenaged conmen".

* * *

"Stay close." Peter hissed to Neal as they followed the gallery's owner. Neal nodded, too awed by the amount of precious art on the walls to make a sarcastic retort.

"We employ very few curators who also serve as security" the owner was a young woman with dark brown hair named Kate. Neal had immediately eyed her and made a comment about "beautiful art".

"Have you done background checks on these people?" Peter asked.

"Of course, but…" Kate and Peter's voices died down as they walked away from Neal. Despite all of Peter's threats, it had been rather easy for Neal to slip away from the FBI agent.

"A-hem" a small man in a curator's uniform cleared his throat, causing Neal to look up.

"Mozzie?" he murmured as he pretended to study a painting.

"Actually it's Haversham. Dante Haversham."

Neal resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he noticed the small name tag that read "Haversham."

"Mozzie, I know it's you. The feds are onto us."

"I saw you come in with that Suit. What's he doing here?"

"He's investigating an art theft. A Vermeer. Mozz, did you steal it?"

"Allegedly."

"Mozz, that's my line. Where did you put it?"

"You know where." Mozzie started to back away.

"Mozzie!" Neal was about to run after his friend when he heard Peter's voice growing louder. The young conman stepped back, once again pretending to be studying the painting.

"Neal! Neal, where were you?"

"Just admiring this Van Gogh. It's his _View of Arles with Irises_, isn't it?" Neal beamed at Kate.

"Yes, it is" she seemed surprised that Neal actually knew that, "how did you know?"

"Van Gogh is Neal's favorite painter, isn't he, Neal?" Peter was sending a deathly glare at the conman. His look lent new meaning to the phrase "if looks could kill".

"Actually, I've always preferred Raphael."

"Right, was he a painter in the 19th century?" Peter's face showed obvious confusion.

"No, Peter. He was one of the painters in the Renaissance. You know, the 15th century?" Neal winked at Kate who gave a small smile in return.

"Well, thank you very much" Peter chose to ignore Neal and turned to Kate.

"Not at all. And if you find anything, please let me know. Here's my business card" she handed the FBI agent a slim white card, which Neal immediately plucked away with nimble fingers.

"I'll call you" Neal stage-whispered to Kate, who grinned. Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. He firmly grasped Neal's collar and all but dragged him out of the gallery.

* * *

"Hey hon, we're home!" Peter called out.

"Hey" El kissed Peter as Neal made a disgusted face and turned away.

"Neal, you are not allowed to make that face. Not after today."

"What happened?" El pulled away from her husband and looked at Neal and Peter with suspicion.

"Well-"

"Oh nothing, Peter's just still grumpy because he didn't have his coffee this morning" Neal said in a casual tone.

"Really? Actually Neal met someone today."

El was trying not to laugh as she watched her boys argue.

"Tell me" she said.

"It was nobody" Neal shrugged.

"So you promised to call nobody?"

"Yep" Neal grinned.

Peter sighed, he honestly couldn't stand infuriating, teenaged conmen. Neal started to head upstairs, just as El called after him.

"What was her name?"

"Her name is Kate. Kate Moreau" Neal smiled down at the business card he held.

* * *

_Hope you enjoyed! I thought it was time to bring in Kate and Mozzie! You'll be seeing more of them in later chapters!_


	9. Doubts

"_Her name is Kate. Kate Moreau."_

* * *

Neal sat on the edge of his bed, playing with the business card. He knew it was just a slip of paper, but paper had always meant something more to him, whether or not it concerned a piece of art. He sighed and placed the white business card on the nightstand, hiding it behind the lamp. The con grabbed the sketchpad and pencils El had given him. He smiled, noting that El had gotten excellent drawing paper and artist-grade drawing pencils.

"Neal" Peter's voice floated up the stairs and the teen grimaced. Of course the agent had to interrupt, just as he was about to start what Mozzie called "his creative process".

"Yes, Peter?"

"We need to have a chat about today." The agent was frowning and Neal started to have a sinking feeling in his gut. This was one "chat" that was not going to be so nice. Then again, Neal still wasn't sure if Peter could have a "nice chat".

"Peter, if this is about flirting with pretty gallery curators…"

"It is not about that. Sit down" Peter practically dragged Neal over to the couch. The teenager scooched as far away as he possibly could.

"You recognized that other curator."

"Who?" Neal immediately adopted a questioning look.

"That short bald guy with glasses who ran off just as we came back." Peter tried not to sigh in exasperation.

"I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Neal…would you like to go to juvie?" Peter demanded.

"No. But I didn't notice anybody else in the gallery. I was so caught up in the Van Gogh, I guess I-" Neal was interrupted by Peter.

"No, you weren't. I saw him talking to you."

"Boys, dinner's ready!" El's cheery voice contrasted sharply with the mood in the living room. AS Neal got up, Peter caught his upper arm.

"Neal, if I find out you know that guy and you're lying to me…"

"Peter, you'll never find out if I'm lying to you." Neal said earnestly.

* * *

The next morning, breakfast was a tense affair. Peter and Neal sat in their own silent sulk. El finally couldn't stand the silence and banged her spoon against her cereal bowl.

"Would someone please tell me what's going on?" she asked.

"Perhaps Neal would care to explain." Peter offered at the same time as Neal said, "perhaps Peter would like to explain."

"Boys…" Both Peter and Neal wilted under El's stern gaze. Underneath the table, Satchmo whined. He knew that tone of voice; it was the voice El used when Satch had been a bad dog.

"Well, Neal met someone at the gallery."

"I know that. He met Kate."

"No. He met someone else. And I'm willing to bet that he planned on this meeting."

"How could I?" Neal broke in indignantly.

"Peter, he has a point. Neal hasn't exactly had access to a phone or any other communication." El tried to interject gently.

"Hon, he's a con. That says it all. He's-" Peter snapped.

Neal abruptly pushing back from the table and knocking his chair over in the process interrupted him. El stood as well and tried to lay a gentle hand on his arm, but Neal shrugged her off.

"All you think I am is a con?" he asked dully.

Peter said nothing and sat back, folding his arms. However, his expression said exactly what he thought. Neal couldn't believe his eyes. He had shown the federal agent that he actually had tried to turn over a new leaf, but all he got was suspicion. Neal angrily swiped his hand across his eyes, feeling the sting as tears built up.

"Fine" he choked out and ran up the stairs.

"Hon…" El put her hands on her hips and glared at her husband. He shrugged and put his hands up.

* * *

Neal curled up on his bed, hugging his knees.

He could hear El outside his room, knocking and asking if she could come in. He had already told her to go away twice, but she hadn't.

"Neal…sweetie…please let me in" El begged.

"Okay" Neal's reply was so soft, that he wasn't sure if El heard him.

"Neal, I'm so sorry" she murmured into his hair as she hugged the teenager she now considered her son.

"'S not your fault" Neal muttered. He barely felt El's arms around him. All he could feel was the hurt as Peter had told him that he was a conman and nothing more.

"Peter didn't mean to say what he said. I know my husband, and he sometimes…just gets a little overexcited." El tried to explain.

"No. I know he meant it. And maybe," Neal paused and took a deep breath, "maybe, he's right."

* * *

_**~TBC**_

_I will post an update in 1-7 days. Sorry this chapter is rather late, but I've been a bit busy. :( Please review!_


	10. Abandoned

"_No. I know he meant it. And maybe…maybe, he's right."_

* * *

Neal hated doubting himself. But with everything that had happened and what Peter said, the young conman was starting to have second thoughts. Except for Kate. He stared out the window, thinking how nice the Burkes' house was. It was so warm and friendly, that Neal was seriously considering how pleasant it would be to stop running for a while and settle down. He knew El already cared about him and he thought Peter did. Though that would probably take some convincing.

The young conman quietly picked up the phone, checking to make sure El was downstairs and Peter was out. Neal flipped the business card between nimble fingers and slowly dialed the number.

"Is Kate Moreau there?" he asked.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Tell her it's Neal Caffrey." Neal tapped his fingers restlessly against the windowsill.

"Hey, Neal" the cool voice on the other end of the line suddenly turned bright and sweet.

"Kate. I've been wanting to ask you something. There's a new exhibit opening at the Met. You want to go?" Neal held his breath.

"Neal…are you serious?"

"Yeah. Okay, never mind. It was a bad idea, I should-"

"No! No, I mean I want to go…it's just…" Kate trailed off.

"Just what?" Neal felt the disappointment rising up.

"Never mind. I'll meet you on the museum steps at three on Tuesday?" the cheery tone was back in Kate's voice, but Neal could tell it was forced.

"See you then." Neal decided to play along. He hung up, wondering what was up with Kate. He barely knew her, but already he knew something was wrong.

"Neal, you okay in there?" El's voice filtered through the door.

"Of course! Not a problem. Everything is just great!" Neal quickly put the phone down and smiled as El came into the room. She looked around suspiciously, but Neal had conveniently placed an open book in front of him, so that he appeared to be reading.

"Guess what?"

"What?" El placed her hands on her hips and frowned at him.

"I'm going on a date."

"What?!" two very loud exclamations more or less shook the Burke household. One was a very excited exclamation from El and the other, a not so excited yell from Peter.

"Oh sweetie, that's wonderful! Where are you going?" El beamed.

"The Met. There's a new exhibit there and I thought Kate and I could go see it."

"Well, taking a girl to a dusty old museum sounds wonderful" Peter grouchily muttered.

"Hey! Our first date wasn't so wonderful either" El laughed at her husband, who immediately blushed.

"Peter took me out to the local pizzeria. He was so awkward the entire time. By the time our waiter brought the food, Peter was about to run out."

"I was not," Peter said indignantly.

"Hon, by the time we were ready to leave, you got out of the chair so fast you knocked into a waiter and sent an entire pizza flying into someone's lap" El burst into giggles at the mere thought of it.

"It was an accident. Besides, the people were very understanding about it."

"Mm-hmm…especially after you offered to pay for their dinner." El smirked.

Peter folded his arms and glared as Neal and El smirked at him.

"Just bring some extra cash," Peter said to Neal, the conman rolling his eyes.

* * *

Neal paced the steps. He had already been there for a half hour and he was starting to wonder what had happened to Kate. Perhaps she had had an accident.

At four o'clock, Neal finally realized that Kate wasn't going to come and left.

_~TBC_

* * *

**Sorry, I know this chapter is short, but at least it's something! Feel free to leave a review! This story will be over in a few more chapters.  
Note: The part about El and Peter's first date is something I completely made up!**


	11. Chinese Takeout

_At four o'clock, Neal finally realized that Kate wasn't going to come and left._

* * *

Neal flipped the card over and over again. When he had gotten back, El had taken one look at his miserable face and asked what was wrong. Neal hadn't answered and went upstairs. Peter had followed him, reprimanding the young con for ignoring El. Neal had finally snapped at Peter and the federal agent had backed down. Neal had curled up on his bed and tried desperately to ignore the pricking at the back of his eyes. He knew he had been rude to both Peter and El and he wanted desperately to apologize.

"Hon, we need to go up and talk to him," El pleaded with her husband.

"El, he yelled at me" Peter knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn't care.

"Peter, you yelled at him."

"He-" Peter started to say something and El cut in.

"No. Peter, you need to go up and apologize to him."

"Neal needs to apologize to you." Peter folded his arms.

"I'll go with you" El coaxed.

"Fine. This is for you though, not him." Peter stalked up the stairs, El following closely.

"Neal? Sweetie? Can we come in?" El asked gently through the door.

There was no reply and El slowly opened the door. She felt her heart break at the sight of Neal curled on the bed, tears trickling down his cheeks and silent sobs shaking his body. Even Peter felt his heart constrict as he and El sat on either side of Neal. El gently rubbed her hand in circles on Neal's back, feeling the conman's sobs subside until he just lay limply on the bed.

"Neal. I think you have something to say" Peter began in a quiet tone. El tried to warn him, but Neal's response was faster.

"I'm sorry," he cried as he wrapped his arms around El, the tears threatening to fall again. Peter just sat there, waiting until Neal let go of El and turned to face him.

"I'm sorry, Peter" Neal said softly, quickly swiping his hand across his eyes.

"It's alright, Neal. However, you need to apologize to El and me after being so rude" Peter responded gruffly, after El prodded his arm.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." Neal said sincerely, looking both Burke's straight in the eyes.

"Neal, tomorrow, you're going to have to come with me to work." Peter paused, "Hughes needs to know about the painting and the one from the gallery. Perhaps your friend could help us."

Neal panicked for a moment, thinking the FBI agent meant Mozzie. However he relaxed, when Peter prompted "Kate?"

"I, I don't think that's a good idea."

"What do you mean?" Peter asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I'm sure she's busy. She said they were having some sort of gala or something." Neal hastily supplied.

"Alright. But I'm sure she'd be able to meet with us for just a minute" Peter pressed, carefully watching Neal's response. The young conman maintained a neutral expression and shrugged. He was really not looking forward to this alleged meeting.

* * *

Neal used his foot to spin his chair in a half circle. He had sat at Peter's desk for at least two hours while Peter talked with his boss. And Peter, the inconsiderate federal agent that he was, didn't even provide him with a piece of paper and a pencil. So Neal was forced to find printer paper, _all _by _himself_, and use one of Peter's pens that ran out of ink halfway through the drawing.

"Peteeeer" Neal drew out the "e" as the FBI agent walked into the office. Peter raised his eyebrows at Neal's whine. He hadn't expected the young conman to be a whiner.

"What?"

"You left me alone._ All_ day." Neal somehow managed to look like a puppy someone had abandoned on the side of the road. Peter could feel his heart starting to melt, just a bit.

"You want lunch?" Peter offered to a still pouting Neal. The kid shrugged, which Peter took as an affirmative.

Peter felt like he was dragging Neal, trailing the young conman behind him, like he was on a leash. They finally stopped at a hole-in-the-wall Chinese takeout place and Neal promptly rolled his eyes.

"Really? FBI agents eating Chinese takeout? I thought that was only in the movies" Neal commented sarcastically. Peter smirked, thinking about the stereotypical teenager behavior Neal was exhibiting.

"Here" Peter handed Neal a menu.

"Sesame chicken" Neal said, promptly handing the menu back to Peter.

"Been here before?" questioned Peter.

Neal shook his head.

"Then how-" Peter began, but he was interrupted as the cashier asked him for their orders.

"How did you know what to order?" Peter asked, as they waited for their food. Neal just smiled and shrugged.

The FBI agent rolled his eyes, thinking of how typically vague Neal was.

* * *

**Author's Note****:** I am SO sorry for not having updated for a month+. There will be one more chapter after this one and then this story will be over. Thank you to everyone who is still reading!


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